Last Sunday Lucy was in her room, taking her ‘nap’ when I heard a whimper than turned into a cry for help. I went in to her room and there she was struggling because instead of napping she had taken off her pants and proceeded to put on every pair of underpants that she owns (approximately twenty). She was then trying to take them off – pulling the ones underneath off first. She had (obviously) gotten them tangled tightly around her thighs and could not move as they slowly cut off circulation to her lower legs.

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On Monday she was getting ready for dinner – in our bathroom when, after 15 minutes or so, I went in to check on her. She had pulled out my makeup and was proceeding to ‘powder her face’. I asked her what she was up to and she stated quite matter of factly “I just needed to put on some makeup because I look horrible right now.”

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Tuesday night, in the hopes of not getting my make up all over the bathroom floor went with her to get ready for dinner and insisted that she use her own bathroom. I followed her in there and asked if she needed any help, she turned to me – pushed me out of the doorway and said “no, Mom what I really want right now is just some peace and quiet.”

Due to circumstances beyond my control the mailing of Christmas cards will be severely postponed. I would suggest keeping an eye out around Seward’s day (it’s a thing – look it up). I cannot find cards, stamps or my address book (not to mention my slippers, my gloves, wrapping paper, scotch tape, moisturizer, BBQ tongs and so many other things that were shoved last minute in a box that seemingly ceased to exist somewhere between Philadelphia and Delaware county).

After some serious prodding, cajoling and bribing I managed to wake Ruka up long enough for her to dictate the the following letter chocked full of holiday cheer:

“Feliz navidad, this year some shit happened – the little one got bigger, it was warm and then it was cold and then for two terrifying hours of my life I shivered alone in an unfamiliar basement and now I am in a new place and constantly confused and looking for things. I’m tired – happy new year”

I thought it would be silly to go purchase more stamps simply to send you a card that said ‘this year some shit happened’ I mean you all probably could have figured that out on your own.

So just in case I never find my address book – or I get really drunk and forget:

We had a great year this year. I managed to get a new job that is hands down better than my old job – which really speaks to something as my current job is certainly not all unicorns and roses.

This year I did not learn how not to complain or how to feel grateful for the little things. I still continue to be a pain in the ass that is annoyed when people talk too slow – can’t do simple math correctly or put too much syrup in my vanilla latte…

My husband had a good year – he works at a place and that is good. He has worked there a long time and he does something. His hair got shaggy at one point and I cut it. he started flossing his teeth more often.

Lucy turned 3. Three – where instant gratification is NOT FAST ENOUGH. Nothing is pink enough or princessy enough. She hopes that one day her hair is long enough that she can sit on it.

Fourteen including two bi-coastal, cross country treks. I am an expert at driving a car with one hand while holding on to a mattress inadequately tied to the roof. I have shoved an entire studio apartment into two steamer trucks that I single handedly ferried and boarded onto an overbooked Amtrak train. One of which I sat on for twelve hours, half blocking the mens room door.

I once moved two city blocks with only a small handcart in the middle of a Philadelphia heat wave, but never ever have I gone through anything that is going on right now. Things that I have learned in the past two weeks:

We own approximately 4,685,330,129,902 hair bands

A three year old can unpack a box much faster than you can load it especially if she believes that she can fit inside it.

Box forts. Enough said.

There is, apparently, such a thing as too many books

A twenty year old cat that screams shrilly when not actively sitting on your lap DOES NOT LIKE any of this

Two more days and then we get to do it all in reverse. I’m going to start throwing out some hairbands.